On the Path of Grieving
by lexi-charmed
Summary: Mel is in Hell and Dean wants to do anything to save her, sure that she can be saved. If you haven't read my previous stories in my On the Path series, I recommend reading them before this. This one is the snapshot of thoughts and feelings between the last story and the one coming up after this. Can Dean find a way to save Mel? What will happen while Mel is in Hell?
1. Chapter 1

**I know I said that I was going to share this story sooner, but I was a little stuck at some points of it. This is going to be a shorter one, as it's the story between the last story and my next one in the Dean/Mel 'verse. There are at least two POVs in each chapter-usually Dean's and Mel's but sometimes I'll throw in other POVs. I hope you enjoy it.  
**

Chapter 1

 _One month after Mel's death..._

One month. It had been one month.

He couldn't believe a month had passed so long since Mel's death. One month since she went to Hell. That was a decade in Hell's terms, at least if Castiel was right. Had she held on and not given in?

He didn't really know what was best? Mel holding on and not giving into torturing innocent people or still being on that rack being tortured day in and day out. Whichever one it was, it wasn't good and that was what kept him focused on finding a way to save her.

Hen had given up on Holly now. Well, not quite given up, but he'd moved into the next stage of grief. Holly was gone and he and Haley had to move on. Haley, Paige and Henry were focusing on moving forward, while Hen focused on his daughters. They were now growing up without a mother thanks to Lilith. Without a mother and aunt.

Many of the others had moved onto the next stage of grieving, too. Chris and Dana were focusing on their wedding plans. Leo was helping them, along with the cupids. They needed something good to focus on; the whole family needed something good to focus on, but he couldn't help feel like they were forgetting the important part.

But he couldn't forget that Mel and Holly were still in Hell.

His sister and cousin were doing time downstairs and needed their help. Even if it wasn't to bring them back to the living, they needed help to get out of a place they didn't belong; to prevent them from becoming things that they shouldn't be.

That was why Wyatt was still standing at the Book of Shadows, hoping against everything that something new had been added. Those on the other side in the afterlife had to have added something in it by now. After a month of looking through the large tome, Wyatt had memorized it all. He knew from a glance when something else had been added, and there was nothing yet. There wouldn't be anything.

Nobody knew how to bring her back.

With a heavy sigh, Wyatt rubbed his eyes and closed the Book of Shadows. He couldn't help but stare at the family symbol, tracing his finger over it. Mel had loved that symbol, long before she understood fully what it had meant. It was the symbol for the Power of Three, but it was more than that for Wyatt and Mel. It was the sign of strength; the sign that they would do anything for family. And now everyone else was turning their back on Mel while she did time in the fiery pit.

 _Not everyone, Wyatt_ , he had to remind himself. There was one person taking this harder than he was.

Making his way down the stairs, Wyatt saw a figure hunched over the laptop, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Dean Winchester had been taking Mel's death extremely hard. It was only now that Wyatt had realized just how much Dean had loved Mel.

Wyatt had to be honest that he hated the idea of the two of them together when he first found out. Dean had a habit of being a ladies' man. He would jump from bed to bed, and Sam happily shared stories of Dean's escapades. With Mel being so fragile after Piper and Ben's deaths, Wyatt had wanted something stable for her. That definitely wasn't Dean. At least, Wyatt didn't believe it was. Yet, here they were.

Dean had helped Mel curb her drinking. Not completely, but Mel would start and end days sober now, she'd eat real food and had even become herself again. Dean had been good for her in the end, and it was clear that the two cared about each other. Now it really looked like they'd loved each other, something Wyatt had never seen coming.

The sound of the laptop closing shook Wyatt out of his thoughts. Dean stood from the dining table, making his way over to the cabinet by the window. Pouring himself another glass of whiskey, he spoke, "Nothing new added, I'm guessing."

Wyatt chuckled to himself. The hunter always knew when there was someone else in the room, no matter how quiet they were. Like Wyatt, he had a gut instinct of not being alone, a feeling that came from years of being watched secretly and jumped on from behind.

"No," Wyatt replied, walking down the rest of the stairs to join Dean at the cabinet. Dean held up the bottle of whiskey, glancing over to Wyatt, "No, I've got work in a couple of hours. Need to have a clear head for that."

"Yeah, guess patients wouldn't want their doctor hammered while he cut them open," Dean shrugged his shoulders, downing his glass of whiskey before pouring another one. Wyatt frowned, seeing the glazed look in Dean's green eyes, "Well, those new books Sammy picked up have been useless. I'm back to searching for more."

Dean sat back down at the table, staring at the glass in his hand. He didn't drink the liquid, but watched how it swirled around in the glass, how the bubbles from when it had been poured popped and disappeared.

"It's 10 years," Dean finally sighed, making Wyatt frown. He sat at the table, opposite Dean, so he could watch him carefully, "10 years. I'm not sure if I could last that long. 10 years of torture, every day? Knowing that it would never end?"

"Mel's strong. She won't give in yet." Wyatt told him, but he wasn't even that certain himself. Could he hold out 10 years of daily torture?

"How can you be so sure?" Dean asked, laughing at something but clearly not amused, "You know, I summoned a damn crossroads demon last night. I was so fed up of not getting anywhere that I went out and summoned one. Finally offered up my soul for one to take."

"Dean..." Wyatt frowned deeply, concerned about his friend. If he offered it but was still here without Mel, it must have meant that nothing happened.

"Wouldn't take it," Dean drank some of the whiskey, before looking at Wyatt, "My soul ain't good enough now the King of Hell has Mel. A year and a half ago, my soul was desired and now..."

Dean trailed off, shaking his head. As his jaw clenched, Wyatt just stared in silence. There was nothing for him to say, but it felt like he should say something. Luckily, Dean broke off the silence.

"I just don't want her to suffer for saving my life, my soul," Dean muttered, his voice breaking, "The woman I love...she shouldn't...ya know, this is why I never let myself get too close to someone. Because shit like this happens. People die around me and..."

"Mel would have given her life up whether you were there or not," Wyatt sighed, hating to admit the fact but it was true, "Even if you weren't there, Mel woulda done the exact same thing with those Hellhounds just to save her niece. Family...family has always meant the world to her—to all of us. Sure, she lost her way last year, but that's what grief does to people, right?"

Wyatt's heart was breaking as he watched Dean from across the table. All Dean could do was stare at the amber liquid, as if it was going to give him all the answers he needed.

Finally, Dean downed the rest of the drink and put the glass to one side before opening up the laptop, "I'm not gonna let her suffer any longer."

* * *

She just laid there, taking in a breath.

 _That was a mistake_ , she cursed at herself, as she felt the pain in her lungs. Breathing by this point in the day was always hard. It didn't quite make sense if she was honest. She'd died; taken her last breath. Somehow her soul still needed to breathe.

Melinda just couldn't get her head around it. How the hell—no pun or anything intended there—did her soul still need to breathe? Was this just another downside to Hell? She needed to breathe and it hurt like crazy every time she did?

"Miss Halliwell, so lovely to see you again," a voice called out to her. Groaning, Mel turned her head on the rack. She'd lost feeling in her arms and legs a long time ago that day, but her neck and back ached. Her arms and legs didn't even feel like they belonged to her body anymore—didn't even feel like they were there the joints had been pulled and stretched to a point that wasn't even imaginable—but her neck and back burned whenever she moved them.

But she wanted to look at the man—the demon—as he walked into the room. She'd knew exactly who it was. For the last 10 years, he'd come and make her the same offer.

"Bite me, Alistair," she groaned through chapped, painful lips. Well, that's what she'd tried to get out. It was a muffle, really. Her tongue had swollen and her mouth was dry. Some days they would cut her tongue out and after the initial pain, she'd welcome the feeling of blood in her mouth; the moisture was helpful. Groaning inwardly, she cursed at what Hell had done to her. She welcomed her tongue being cut out.

 _Because that's normal_ , she groaned to herself.

"Day three thousand, six hundred and fifty...one," Alistair taunted her, walking over with a knife in his hand, "3,651 days and you've never said yes. But I'm going to ask you again. I will make you that same offer I always do."

"I won't...wo...won't say yes." Mel glared at him. She was adamant that she wouldn't. It didn't matter what happened to her, but she would never tell him yes. Never give any demon the satisfaction.

"Doesn't matter, I'll still ask," Alistair shrugged his shoulders, running the knife down her body, "Will you become the Queen of Hell?"

Mel tried to laugh, but it was too painful. Instead, she grimaced and looked away from the demon, "No."

Alistair shrugged his shoulders, before leaning in close so he could whisper in her ear. She could feel his warm breath, smell the blood and rot on him from all his years of torturing the people in Hell, "You will give in eventually. Everyone always does."

With that, he walked out of the room, clicking his fingers as he went. Her body was fully repaired. She could feel her arms and legs again, and the awkward position they were in on the rack made her ache already. Silently, she let a tear fall down her cheek. Deep down she knew that Alistair was right. One day she would give in. She would say yes.

* * *

 **So, what did you think of this first chapter? I will give away that each new chapter will be the next month, so each decade for Mel. I know it means there's a lot missing, but it's just snapshots into their thoughts during all this.**

 **Please R &R. I'd love to hear what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi. Thank you for the feedback on the first chapter of this part of the series of stories. I've now finished this one, so each week there will be a new chapter taking you through the various months. They're not all from Dean and Mel's views. I've got some from Wyatt's, Sam's and even Castiel's!**

 **Anyway, here's the second month after Mel and Holly died and went to Hell.**

Chapter 2

Dean groaned, as he opened his eyes. The light was blinding. Why the hell did he forget to shut the blinds last night? Rolling out of the bed, he stumbled across to the pair of jeans he'd thrown haphazardly on the floor last night. Well, not quite thrown but dropped. He didn't quite remembering it all that well.

Two months ago Mel had died and in that time, he'd spent every single day looking for a way to save her. Within that time, the Halliwell family had moved on. Well, most of it. Wyatt still helped him and sometimes Poppy would come to him with some research she'd found, but everyone else focused on the good things happening. Chris and Dana had gotten married, Riley and Pru had gone back to the way things had been before Dean and Sam had turned up on the Halliwell doorstep back in March, and Patience had gone off to college. Haley was back to helping her charges, while Hen did his best raising his two daughters as a single father.

Sam...well, Sam was trying to help Dean but it wasn't really working. It couldn't while he ran P3 at the same time. Sam had wanted Dean to come to the club and pick up some of Mel's duties. It would certainly give him something else to do, but that would mean no longer finding a way to help Mel and that wasn't something Dean was going to do. He'd made a promise to himself and to Mel's cold, dead body. He was going to find a way to save her.

Rubbing his eyes, Dean stumbled through the small apartment that Mel had owned. The place reminded him of his girlfriend, and was a good escape from the everyday life of the Halliwell family. It was somewhere very few people would venture out to. Except Sam. Sam would always turn up when Dean least wanted it.

That's what had happened last night. Dean remembered that part because there'd been yet another argument over Dean's drinking yet again. While researching, the only other thing for Dean to do was drink. And it was always the cheap whiskey he could get. Sam had stopped serving him at P3, telling everyone else who worked there not to let him touch a drop of alcohol. It led to Dean going elsewhere for his drink. His little brother couldn't stop him.

Speaking of his little brother, Dean saw the legs of him sticking out from one side of the couch as he walked into the living room. Groaning, he rolled his eyes and walked over to the back of the couch, looking down on the sleeping form.

"You know Mel and I had sex on that couch?" Dean told him with an annoyed frown. Sam groaned in his sleep, making Dean roll his eyes and walk into the kitchen, "How the fuck am I the one awake after drinking so much and you're sleeping?"

"Because I was up much later than you making sure you didn't choke on your own puke." Sam mumbled from the couch, surprising Dean. He hadn't expected his little brother to hear his question; it was more to himself. Shrugging, Dean started to make coffee, pulling out two cups from the cupboard. Sam got up from the couch, and stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, "You were a mess last night, again."

"I'm fine." Dean rolled his eyes, pulling out his hit flask and taking a mouthful. Perfect for getting rid of the hangover. Sam just glared, shaking his head.

"You need to stop," Sam sighed, "You can't help Mel if you're constantly in an alcohol-induced faze. Or if you're dead yourself."

"So you still think I can save Mel?" Dean asked him, deciding to ignore everything else.

"I think you might be able to save her soul from Hell, yes," Sam admitted, "But not save her and bring her back to life. It doesn't work like that. Besides, you've said in the past 'what's dead should stay dead'."

"You died and I brought you back." Dean fired back, shrugging his shoulders while the coffee percolated. It was a common argument between the two Winchester brothers, and Sam wasn't getting drawn into it this time. Shaking his head, he walked towards the hallway, mumbling something about getting a shower.

With that Dean was left alone with his thoughts, again. Wyatt had said something similar about saving Mel from Hell. Saving her soul, rather than bringing her back. But Dean wasn't just going to do that. He was going to get his girlfriend back. She didn't deserve to die two months ago, and he was sure it wasn't her time. He wasn't going to let it be her time.

* * *

Mel sobbed as the knife cut into her arm. The pain was excruciating, and she couldn't help but let the tears fall right now. After almost 20 years of this, you would have thought the feelings would have dimmed. You would have thought someone would get used to it all. But that hadn't happened.

Every day it felt like the first day again. She was sure that this was all part of it being Hell. It was possible to make it all seem like the very first day, never get used to any of it so the pain didn't diminish. After all, what would be the point in letting someone get used to the pain if all they wanted was for them to turn dark side?

Mel looked up into the eyes of her torturer. It wasn't someone she recognized today. The woman—it wasn't often a woman—had long brown hair and even darker eyes. There was something almost normal and average about the girl, but Mel could see the darkness—the cloudiness of Hell—in her eyes.

"Scream and cry all you want," the girl smirked down, getting as close to Mel as she could, "Nobody will care. Nobody is coming to save you; to save us."

"Us?" Mel croaked out, frowning but quickly wishing she hadn't. The broken jaw and bruises over her face made any facial movement difficult. It had been hard enough to scream out in pain and cry, so frowning was definitely a no.

"I know, it's hard not to recognize me in this body," the woman smirked, holding the knife close to Melinda's eye as she got closer, "But you know exactly who I am. And they're not coming for either of us. They've all given up. Wyatt, Chris, Hen, Pru...even good ol' Deano. They've all stopped searching because they know there isn't anything that will change this. The Hellhounds killed us Melinda."

A flicker of shock and hurt crossed Mel's green eyes, before she spoke, "Holly?"

"In the flesh," the girl laughed, "Well, someone else's flesh. My body is six feet under. You know, I'm jealous. Crowley puts your body on ice, waiting for you to say yes, and I have to go find my own. Me...the one out of the two of us who said yes first."

"Holly, why?"

"Why not?" Holly laughed. It was strange thinking of this girl as Holly. She looked nothing like her baby cousin; the eldest of Paige's twins. Holly had been a bright girl—not just in personality but in looks, too. From a young age, she'd been a complete opposite to her sister. Somewhere, she'd gotten blonde hair with light brown eyes. Piper and Phoebe had always said Holly was very much like their ancestor Melinda Warren. That was where it had to have come from.

This girl, the girl that a demon Holly was now possessing, was completely different. The darkness in her hair and eyes made it clear to Mel that she wanted to show just how much she'd changed.

"You're already possessing people." Mel stated, her head pounding from the dehydration, hunger and pain. As if a soul needed all that down here; or maybe it was just one of those things again to make the torture seem all that worse.

"I gave in, Mel," Holly informed her, a twitch in her lips, "I gave in and became the thing that our family have fought for centuries. It was better than being on that rack. Give in, too, Mel. It's not like this is going to change. Do you really think you can go through with it every single day for the rest of eternity? They're not going to come. If they were gonna, don't ya think they'da been here by now? It's been 20 years. Hell, they probably aren't even still alive anymore with how our family goes."

That really hit her. It had been 20 years since coming to Hell. 20 long years and there was no way some of her family was still alive. They were cursed as a family to die young; some younger than others. Piper had died in her 50s, and that was old compared to many of the others. Her Aunt Prue, the one her cousin had been named after, died in her early 30s. Grandma Patty was about the same. Melinda Warren, the woman who had started all this, had to have only been in her late 20s at the most when she died. It was just the way it was for the Halliwell line.

But what about Dean? No, Mel knew deep down that he was probably dead. A demon or monster had to have gotten him by now.

She looked at Holly, realization in her green eyes. And all her cousin did was smirk, "You know you might as well give in. Become the Queen of Hell. Hey, at least then the Halliwells get back on top."

It would be two days later, but Melinda Halliwell would eventually give in. Two days after that conversation when Alistair walked in with the offer again, she agreed. She got up off the rack, her limbs all her own again, and became the Queen of Hell.

* * *

 **Please R &R. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. The story came to be after already writing the one after this. I was going to skip over this time period, but decided that you deserve a snapshot into the months leading up to the next story.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone. I know it's only been a week but it seems like so much longer. Thank you for the reviews and support in this story. I've been so busy with work that I nearly forgot to update today. Here it is, though!**

Chapter 3

He was worried. More worried than usual. Dean was usually home by now or had at least returned a phone call, but Sam hadn't heard a blip. Nothing, nada, zilch.

Wyatt was home, so they hadn't gone down to the Underworld again—that was where Dean had been the night before. He hadn't turned up to the club, and he definitely wasn't at home. Chris had already confirmed that he hadn't seen Dean at the Manor that day, either. Dean was officially missing, for Dean anyway.

Another month had passed, and all Dean could think about was that it had been three months since Mel had died. She'd spent three months in Hell, which was 30 years for her. If Mel hadn't broken yet, she was about to break. There was something that Dean had sensed, although he couldn't quite put his finger on the feeling.

Running a hand through his hair, Sam pulled out his cell phone again. He needed to get hold of his brother. Why the hell wasn't Dean answering his goddamn phone? It was one request that Sam had while Dean either went on dangerous hunts to get answers from demons or was out drinking at all hours of the day and night; he had to answer his phone. When he didn't, Sam would worry and that would lead to Sam doing dangerous things.

Right now, Sam was trying to keep his mind calm. Wyatt and Chris had called their cousins to let them know that Dean was missing. Poppy had gone straight to Dean and Mel's—just Dean's—apartment to look for any ideas or clues as to where he could have gone. Sam was going to try one last person.

" _Hi, you've reached Riley. Sorry, I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you."_

Hanging up, Sam sighed again. Riley usually answered his phone unless he was at work. Checking the clock on the mantelpiece in his apartment, Sam wondered whether Riley was still there. It was certainly a possibility at seven at night if they had a rush order.

Dean hadn't been back in the garage since Mel's death. Leo had told him to take all the time off he needed, and that's just what he'd been doing. But now it was getting ridiculous. There was no saving Mel. Sam knew that, Chris knew that, Leo knew that, even Wyatt was coming around to the idea that it just wasn't possible. The only person not getting it—or not willing to even consider it—was Dean. He was determined to save his girlfriend, and Sam realized just how much she'd come to mean to him in the short time that they were together.

Sam's phone started ringing, and he quickly held it up to check the caller ID. Hope filled him, wondering whether it was finally Dean getting in touch. That hope dropped when he saw it was Pru calling him.

"Hey, Pru, have you heard from him yet?" Sam asked, but was greeted with sobs, "What's happened?"

"Riley...he's..."

 _No, don't say it,_ Sam thought to himself, dreading the next words that were going to come out of the girl's mouth.

"Riley's missing, too," Pru finally said between sobs, "Your damn brother has roped him into something. I know it."

Sam realized then that the crying wasn't sad tears, but they were angry ones. If Dean and Riley were both missing, it made sense that they'd gone off somewhere together. Wyatt had been the one helping Dean with research, but he'd give up on his sister lately. Dean had clearly turned to someone who he thought could help in other ways. After all, Riley could get to the demon bar.

Fear now surged through him. If they'd gone to the demon bar, anything could have happened. Maybe someone had recognized either of them, realized that they were spies. Maybe they'd taken them to the Underworld or even into Hell itself. And it was clearly what Pru was worrying about right now.

"Your damn brother..." Pru repeated it, and Sam would have chuckled had it not been for how grave the situation could have been right now. Pru had tried to get it through to Dean that Mel was gone, but it had been no use. Now it was clear that he'd gotten Riley involved, and Sam didn't want to see what Pru could do when she got really pissed.

"Do you know where Riley was last?" Sam asked, grabbing his keys ready to get out of the apartment.

"Work," Pru replied, "When he didn't come home and wasn't answering my calls, I called Uncle Leo. Riley left work two hours ago, Sam. He's not been home. At least, not that I can tell. He's not answering his phone..."

"I know, I just tried him," Sam sighed, walking out of the apartment, "I'm coming over to see you, okay. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Sam hung up the call and made the way to his car. One thing about staying in San Francisco meant that he got a car and had a place to live. It felt semi normal, but he just wasn't turning his back on innocent people anymore. He helped out with the off demon vanquish that would come the Halliwells' way. Not that many demons turned up on their doorsteps anymore, not since the death of Mel. The vanquishing of Lilith had a lot to answer for.

By the time Sam reached Pru and Riley's apartment, Patience and Wyatt were there. Sam looked at Wyatt, trying to see if he knew anything and wasn't telling anyone. Wyatt would have a habit of sending Riley to the demon bar for information after all. There was a hint of emotion except worry on his face, though, and Sam had no reason to doubt him.

"So, he was definitely at work." Patience pulled out a notebook, jotting down the last places that they'd seen both men. It turned out that the last place Dean had been spotted was at the Manor this morning before Chris went to work. He was in the garage working on Melinda's car; the one he'd smashed up three months ago out of anger and pain. It was almost finished after long hours slaving over it.

"I wish we could find that bar without Riley." Wyatt sighed, running his hand through his curly blond hair, before sitting down on the couch next to the younger of his two cousins.

"What if Crowley saw them there?" Pru sobbed, pacing the floor in front of the coffee table, "What if another demon recognized them and took them to Hell. We're losing everyone."

"No, we're not," Sam shook his head, "I refuse to believe that. Maybe they just got a lead and they're going after it." Not that Sam believed that. He knew his brother and there were high chances that he did something reckless and got his ass kicked for it.

The sound of keys in the door alerted them to someone trying to get into the apartment. Everyone in the room stood up and watched, as there was a crash. The front door had clearly smashed into the wall.

"Whoa there!" Riley's voice rang out, laughter in it, "Take it easy. One foot in front of the other..."

Sam frowned as he heard a second man mumble something. Recognizing the voice right away, Sam rushed into the hallway to see Dean stumbling into the wall. Riley laughed, grabbing Dean by the shoulders and pointing him in the direction of the living room. Seeing Sam, he grinned and pointed Dean in that direction.

"Look, there's your brother. Walk to him while I check the damage you just caused."

Sam watched as Dean looked at him. Straight away, he could tell that he was as drunk as a skunk. This had been the worst Sam had seen his brother in the last three months. In fact, it looked like he'd been drinking all day—and smelled like it, too. And was that tobacco that he could smell on Dean's clothes? Sam was going to try ignore that for now.

"I doneya lo...look...lookin' af'er me, Smmy," Dean slurred the words out, trying to point in his brother's direction. All Sam could do was roll his eyes as Dean staggered backwards, into a not so perceptive Riley. In Riley's defense, he had been checking for any damage on the wall from the door that had swung loudly.

"There you are!" Pru exclaimed from behind Sam, "I've been worried sick. I thought...I thought you'd gone and got yourself killed or something."

Pru rushed over to Riley, kissing him hard. He chuckled as he shook his head, "Needed to keep an eye on him. He turned up at the garage in Mel's Mustang drunk. Clocked out and was gonna take him home but we ended up going to a bar. Sorry, I shoulda called but...well, look at him."

"He was drink driving?" Sam asked with a concerned frown. To make matters worse, he was drink driving in Mel's Mustang.

"God knows how he got to the garage without killing himself or anyone else," Riley sighed with a nod of his head. They watched Dean as he stumbled through the living room and into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he frowned.

"Where's your beer?"

"We don't have any," Pru shouted back and then looked between Riley and Sam, "What are we gonna do with him?"

"He's sleeping on our couch tonight," Riley sighed, before glancing over at Sam, "After that, I'm really not sure. He needs help."

Sam nodded his head in agreement. His big brother definitely needed help.

* * *

The first two years had been hard. Alistair taught her all about the art of torture, and now she had to admit that it definitely was an art. But the first two years had been hard. She felt like she was back in school again, only this time the school of the damned.

Alistair talked her through all the different blades and ways to torture people. _Always go for the sharpest blade, not the biggest_ , had been one of the biggest rules from the Head of Torture...Hell really did love their titles. The second one had been to thrive on the pains and cries for help. Nobody was going to come to save them, and the cries would become the thing that spurred real demons on more.

Melinda had never thought that she'd torture people as Queen of Hell, but Crowley had demanded it. In fact, most demons demanded it. Before they would follow a Halliwell, she had to show herself as one of them. She had to break the same way other souls would break. Knowing that nobody was coming for her made it that much easier. She went along with Alistair's lessons.

Fast forward to the end of the third decade in Hell, and Melinda was becoming a natural at torture. And she did enjoy it. After all those years of having it happen to her, all those years of pain when she was alive, she was able to dish it out. And it felt really good. She never wanted it to end.

Now she relished at the idea of another victim being brought in; another soul for her to carve into piece by piece. And she would carve into them and make them break. She would listen to their cries and she even got off on them. She would become a Queen of Hell worth following.

* * *

 **Writing Dean, Sam etc scenes have been much easier than writing the scenes in Hell! I'm not sure why, but that's the way my muse has been going. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please R &R to let me know.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So, Mel is bad...yes, Gabyhyatt that is the case right now. She gave in and agreed to become a demon. Thanks for your review.**

 **I'm updating a little earlier than normal because I don't want too long between these chapters. They're not as long as other stories, so there's not as much to take in. Here's month four after Mel and Holly's deaths.**

Chapter 4

"So, my place or yours?" The gorgeous—and he meant gorgeous—brunette in front of him asked. She winked as she did it, playing with that light brown hair. The old Dean would have happily grabbed that hair while he kissed her hard, getting her in a cab or her car to get her to her place.

But that was the old Dean. Not the one that had lost his girlfriend four months ago. Not the Dean who had spent the last four months trying everything to get her back. Everyone else had given up a month ago. Well, everyone except Riley.

After Dean's drive to the garage, which he didn't remember doing, Riley had promised to keep him on track. They'd ended up uncovering some information that Riley could use in the demon bar. There was a spark of hope and the two of them researched for days in the hope that something would come up positive. Even Wyatt had joined in again temporarily.

But two days ago it had all led to a dead end. Riley's contacts dried out and the information dried up. Dean guessed that someone high up had called an end to it all. His gut had told him that there was someone or something higher up putting a stop to the information. It would make sense, especially if it was to get into Hell, kill Crowley and save Melinda. And Dean wanted to do all three of those things.

When the information dried up, Dean started drinking a lot more. It all felt like the renewed hope was for nothing. He'd wasted the last month, and turned to alcohol to deal with that. Of course he did. That was the Winchester way of dealing with problems. It was the hunter way of dealing with problems.

 _It was my way of dealing with problems, cowboy,_ Mel's voice told him in his head. She had been on his mind all the time, and he often found her talking to him during the day. But her voice was changing. He couldn't remember what her voice sounded like anymore and if it wasn't for photos, he'd forget what she looked like.

The more he heard her voice distorted in his head, the more he wanted to drink. He could drown the fake voice out then. That was how he'd ended up at this bar—he couldn't have even told anyone the name of it, just knowing it wasn't P3. He'd come all because of that voice in his head again, and he needed to get rid of it.

Somehow, he'd attracted the attention of the brunette in front of him. The seduction in her blue eyes was strong, and he would have usually drank her all in. But that wasn't Dean's plan right now. He had no sex drive. If the girl wasn't Melinda, he didn't want anyone. Despite Melinda being gone, he was going to stay faithful to her because he would get her back. That was a promise he had made to himself, to her and to her family.

"I'm sorry, I'm not interested." Dean shook his eyes, taking a mouthful of the beer in his hand. The girl smirked, leaning forward so Dean could see right down her top, but Dean's eyes didn't falter. He kept looking right into her blue eyes, waiting to see what she was going to say or do next. When he didn't look down, the girl was slightly taken aback. Sitting back in the seat, she narrowed her eyes, "Are you gay or something?"

"Or something." Dean shrugged his shoulders, glaring at her now. There wasn't a hint of emotion on his face as she got up from the seat and went to find someone else in the bar to sleep with. Dean couldn't help but chuckle to himself, as he sat back in the seat staring at his beer.

Movement in front of him alerted him to someone else sitting down. Rolling his eyes, he looked up expecting to see the brunette back again, "Can you not take a hint?"

"What hint, Dean?" Dean stopped in his tracks, mouth open when he saw Castiel sitting opposite him. The angel still wore his mustard trench coat, with the smart, slightly too big suit underneath it. His hair was a little more disheveled than normal, and the blue tie was unfastened completely.

Dean's gaze instantly hardened, wondering what the angel wanted. Castiel hadn't shown up for three and a half months. The funeral was the last time he'd seen him, and Dean had threatened him then; he wouldn't think twice about threatening him again.

"How about when I threatened to find a way to kill you?" Dean coldly spoke, staring into the blue eyes. They were ridiculously blue, but Dean had stopped caring. This angel had had chances to save Mel and he hadn't taken them. He'd just left Melinda to die and rot in the ground; to get tortured in Hell.

"I have come with news, Dean," Castiel told him, not acknowledging Dean's comment. They both knew that right now they were just empty threats. It was one thing that Dean hadn't bothered looking into while he tried to save Melinda, "It is not good."

"What do I care? You angels can get on with your shit. I have a girlfriend to save."

"It concerns Melinda," Castiel frowned, leaning forward, "Our sources tell us that Melinda is close to breaking. She..."

"Why haven't you done anything to save her then?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows at him. He wasn't in the mood for anything that he was going to tell him. Castiel frowned, clearly concerned about something, almost apologetic, too, "If she breaks, it's your fault. She went to Hell to save _you_."

"I am looking for every way to save her, Dean," Castiel sighed, "Her and Holly. It is not that easy. I cannot just go into Hell and raise them from perdition. We are finding our way in as we speak."

"Find it faster," Dean growled, sitting forward so that he could keep his voice down, "Find it faster and save her."

"There is more," Castiel ignored the faint threat, looking around the bar to make sure people were not listening to him, "Your friend Riley has been taken by demons. We believe he has..."

"What?" Fear ran through Dean's body. When had Riley been taken? Dean grabbed Castiel by the front of his trench coat, glaring into his bright blue eyes, "What do you mean he's been taken. What the fuck happened to him?"

Castiel glared at the hunter, refusing to talk. Brushing Dean's hands off him, he finally spoke, his voice low and threatening, "Do not presume to grab me. I am an Angel of the Lord."

"You're a piece of shit, that's what you are," Dean shouted at him, not caring that people were not staring at them, "Mel and Holly gave their lives for you and you repay them by letting them rot in Hell. You say you're trying to save them, but really you're all just sitting on your feathery asses hoping that we'll forget. The rest of the family might have, but I won't. I'm not letting them rot. And I'm definitely not letting Riley...do you even know what happened to him? Do you have any idea how I'm going to break this to Pru? You've opened up a world of hate and pain you'll all regret."

"We are doing..."

Castiel didn't even get a chance to finish his sentence. Dean swung his right arm, connecting his fist with Castiel's jaw. Usually, a punch wouldn't bother him—he'd even welcome the initial pain in his body—but he instantly regretted punching Castiel. The angel's head turned 90 degrees, no expression on his face. Dean had to turn his back to mask the pain that he'd felt in his knuckles. It had just been like punching a marble statue. Biting his lip, Dean closed his eyes to avoid letting out the yelp his body wanted him to, while he grabbed his hand in his left to rub his knuckles.

He looked around at the eyes on the two of them. Dean stormed out of the bar, heading straight for his Impala. He needed to clear his head, alone. Not only did he need to save Mel from the worst death in the world, but he also needed to save Riley. He had no idea what had happened, but he knew that his friend—one of his best friends—was being held hostage; possibly tortured. He couldn't allow that to happen.

* * *

Melinda watched as the demons bowed down in front of her. It was her coronation day; not that she really cared for it. There were still demons who refused to follow her but after 20 years in Hell, they were finally accepting that she was one of them. The only thing she hadn't done yet was go topside to kill her own innocent.

 _All in good time_ , Crowley had promised her. It would happen eventually. Rome wasn't built in a day, after all. Instead, Crowley had arranged for an official coronation. It was time to make it abundantly clear that she was his queen. They were now officially together, whatever that meant for demons. She still wasn't completely sure, and she didn't really care.

Right now, she was loathing herself for the decision. Self hate had become a normal thing for the former witch. Crowley had commented that it meant there was still some humanity left in her. She wouldn't hate herself—her decision to turn her back on her family—if she didn't feel something for her human life. It was something Mel would have to get rid of, and soon.

"Long live the Queen." One of the demons shouted out, followed by a chorus of hails from the rest of the demons watching the coronation. Crowley took Mel's hand and stood, encouraging Mel to stand with him.

All she could feel right now was the weight off the gown. It was a beautiful, red dress, almost like her prom dress from high school. The halter-neck line helped her small breasts stand out, and the beaded waistline drew the eyes to that point. Picking up the bottom of the dress, she allowed Crowley to escort her down the stairs and past the crowd of bowing demons. Eyes were on her as she walked out of the room and down the blood-stained walls of the corridor.

Somewhere in the distance there was a scream, a human or demon being tortured; she didn't really care.

"Get changed, princess, I have something I want to show you." Crowley grinned at her, before clicking his fingers. The King of Hell disappeared before her very eyes, making Melinda roll them. Without a word, she walked down the corridor to her own room. Her demon assistant—slave, Crowley had called her but Mel clearly was still human—stood there waiting for her.

The blonde-haired demon bowed her head with a quick curtsey, before rushing over to Melinda and unfastening her dress, "What would you like to wear, my liege?"

"I don't care." Melinda sighed, pulling the hair grips out of her hair. Her brown locks fell around her face, curls everywhere. Within a flash, the demon assistant—Mel would have to learn her name one day—grabbed a black pair of trousers and red blouse. Quickly throwing them on, Mel didn't even check herself in the mirror before walking out of the room.

"There you are," A nasally voice made her roll her pretty green eyes. She looked to her right to see Alistair standing, just waiting for her. A smug grin appear on his face, "Follow me."

One thing Alistair didn't do was bow down to anybody. Being the high-level demon that he was, he didn't need to fear the wrath of the King of Hell. Besides, he was far too good at torture to fear anyone. Many had wondered where the white eyes had come from; he never had the black that other demons had or the red that Crowley and other crossroad demons had. Mel had learned that he was created by Lucifer himself. Only two of them were in existence, until the Halliwells had killed his sister, Lilith.

"Crowley is expect..." Mel started but Alistair just laughed. He knew all that already, and that was just where he was about to take her. It was time to find out her surprise.

She soon realized that it was a test. Walking through the torture chambers, Melinda heard a familiar growl of pain. It was one that she would recognize anywhere, hearing it a few times during her lifetime. Frowning, she looked towards the door that the growl had come from. Alistair's eyes were on her, that she could feel but she didn't care. Pushing the door open slowly, Melinda narrowed her eyes and looked at the man held up by chains from the ceiling, his legs chained by the ankles to the floor.

Blood dripped down his stomach, a hole in his side where a poker or knife had previously been. His face was covered in bruises and cuts, and scratches, cuts and scrapes covered the rest of his body on show.

"Hello, sweetheart." Crowley spoke from behind the man, now walking around in his tailor-made suit. A knife in his hand made it clear that he'd been the one doing the torturing just then. Melinda didn't take her eyes off the man, though.

"Where did he come from?" Melinda asked, her voice causing the man to look up. Their eyes locked, and Mel could see the initial hope and happiness shattered by pain and sadness in the brown eyes opposite him.

"Mel," the man whispered, "No, you've...you broke?"

His voice was weak, broken. It was like just seeing her there had caused everything he had held on for to disappear. Like it was all over now that he knew that she had given into the torture; got off the rack and became the Queen of Hell.

"Silence." Alistair warned the man, before looking over at Melinda, "Prove to us that you're not the filthy witch you used to be."

Melinda knew that it was a test and a test that she had to pass. Looking over at the man, she held out her hand for the knife in Crowley's hand. Smiling, he gave it to her and watched as she walked over to the chained man, never letting her gaze fall from his eyes.

"Mel, please." The man cried, tears forming in those eyes that she refused to look away from. If she looked away, the feelings for him would come back. The doubt in her mind would creep in. It would show weakness; weakness that she had to prove right now she didn't have. This was her future now, and she needed to stick with this. After all, there was no saving her. Everyone she knew was gone or would be soon. It had been 40 years, although those 40 years had been very kind to the man in front of her.

"Mel, Dean is trying to save you. We both want to save you." The man told her, pleading through his eyes as she held the knife to his face.

Melinda just chuckled at him, "I'm too far gone to be saved now, Riley."

* * *

 **Now Dean has three people to save. Will this help rope more of the Halliwells back into helping Dean save them or will it lead to a bigger rift?**

 **Please R &R, your reviews mean so much.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Gabyhyatt: No, the family doesn't have much luck, does it? Neither the Winchesters or the Halliwells do. You never know, though...things might just turn.**

 **Thanks again for the review. If I know one person is reading it, it makes me happy to know that there's an audience for this continuing series. I have enjoyed writing it and I don't really want to stop too much, until it finally comes to a point where it's suitable to end writing in the universe.**

 **Here's month five since the Hellhound attack.**

Chapter 5

"There has to be something," Pru screamed at the elder Winchester brother as she threw a cup at the wall, "I can't just believe that he's dropped off the face of the planet."

"He hasn't," Dean shook his head, "But there isn't anything to tell us exactly where he is." Dean had tried for the past month to find Riley. Since Castiel had told him he'd been taken, he'd done everything he could to find out more information. The Halliwell family were on the searching train. They'd given up on Mel, but they would do anything to get their half-manticore friend back.

That had really stung Dean.

He'd spent four months trying to find Mel while everyone else gave up. They'd given up on their sister, their cousin, but they were now helping someone who wasn't even family. It had led to Dean drinking more as he worked overtime to find a way to save everyone—save Mel and Holly from Hell and find where Riley was being kept. He was going out of his mind, and the only thing keeping him sane was the whiskey.

His brother had called him out on it a few times, asked him whether it was a good idea. But Dean couldn't go a day without it. Bobby had understood when he called with more news about Hell and the lack of ways of getting in. At least Bobby was on Dean's side, trying everything he could. Not that he heard from Bobby that often. There was very little lore to help them; at least, lore that was written down.

Sighing, Dean walked out of the kitchen to get back to the research. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the dining table, though, he walked into the sun room and sat down. Boxes lined one of the walls at the moment, items from Mel's apartment. Wyatt, Chris and Leo had decided to let the lease expire. Dean would have stopped them if he knew what was going on. They'd failed to inform him and just told him one night that he would have to stay at the Manor.

That night, Dean had gone out and got wasted. He'd stayed at a motel and considered taking a girl back with him. But when he got chatting to the girl, he'd realized that his heart wasn't in it. In fact, his whole body wasn't in it. He missed Melinda. She had become his everything, and now he desperately needed her back.

The only way of getting Melinda back was to get Riley back. It was obvious the half-manticore had information, otherwise demons wouldn't have taken him. They just had to figure out where he was and what demons were doing to him.

"What if he's dead?" Pru asked, tears filling her eyes as she followed him into the sun room.

"If he was dead, demons would let us know." Dean informed her, his voice stoic and cold. He couldn't bring much when it came to feelings, not just because he was Dean Winchester. He just didn't have that many feelings anymore. His missed Melinda. His heart ached for her and the grief he felt was something he'd never experienced before. Those feelings took over every single day, leading him to become the borderline alcoholic he knew he was becoming.

"How do you know?" Pru asked, but Dean ignored her. Opening the laptop, he started working through more on it, researching the same things over and over again with the hope that there was something that he'd missed. Of course there wasn't, and he couldn't help but blame himself for Riley going missing. After all, if Dean hadn't walked into their lives when his deal was coming to an end, none of this would have happened. Mel wouldn't be in Hell and Riley wouldn't have been looking for ways to save her.

"How do you know, Dean?" Pru repeated, but again he ignored her question. The truth was he didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore. Downing his drink, Dean poured more from the bottle of whiskey. Laughing at himself, not feeling the burn anymore, he downed what he'd put in the glass and then pushed it to one side. He might as well just drink straight from the bottle. He'd finish it off within the hour anyway.

"So, you're just gonna drink more?" Pru asked, laughing in disgust at his actions, not that Dean cared what she thought, "You know, when Mel wanted to save you she stopped drinking. You stopped her downward spiral and you can't even give her and her family the same decency."

That hit a raw spot for Dean. It was something Wyatt had brought up last month, something that Sam regularly brought up. Dean eyed the eldest daughter of Phoebe Halliwell with fire in his green eyes, "I guess she was just a better person than me."

Pru shook her head, anger in her eyes. She clearly wanted to say something to him—fire back that he could be just as good as her—but decided against it. It would have been a fight she'd lose anyway. Dean had never made any pretenses in being good for Mel or her family, and right now he was just proving it. With a scoff, she stormed out of the room, leaving Dean to drink the rest of the day away.

And that was just what he did.

* * *

Riley hadn't aged a day in Hell. Well, okay, a day but not the 10 years that Melinda had originally expected. After the first three years of torture, Melinda had started questioning it. She'd questioned how he hadn't looked 40 years older than he was when she'd died.

It was only after five years of torturing him that she found out the truth about Hell. It hadn't been 50 years now since her death. Her family had been mourning her for five months; five measly months.

"You coulda told me the truth." Mel glared at the meat suit her cousin was currently residing in. It was a red-head, pretty little thing. Her eyes were bright blue and her skin pale, like the snow. Holly had loved it as soon as she saw it, knowing that she could easily work her way into the hearts of the many looking like this. She looked innocent, untouched by man; if only her victims knew the truth.

"If I'da told ya, you wouldn'ta given in, Melly." Holly smirked, twirling a knife in her hand. Melinda shook her head, knowing that was the truth. Five months was nothing. Dean could have been torturing demons for information for all she knew. He could have been only just scratching the surface for a way into Hell. Five months was child's play compared to the 50 years that it felt like.

If she'd known, she wouldn't have given in. She would have told the demons to keep it coming.

For the first time in 30 years, she was regretting her decision to give in. She regretted everything because Dean Winchester wasn't dead. Riley made it clear when she first saw him, but now she'd found out the full truth. Dean hadn't given up on her, and wouldn't; not until she was out of Hell.

"Do you wanna go back on that rack?" Holly asked her, tilting her head to one side. Melinda narrowed her eyes at her cousin, before walking over to the drinks cabinet in her room. Pouring herself a glass of red wine, Melinda stopped. She just stared at the red, thinking of how it looked like blood; the blood she'd spilled torturing souls.

The last 30 years had been spent carving, slicing and dicing. Every day had been the same for a short period of time. She would get up, start her lessons and master them quickly. Aside from Alistair, she became the best torturer in Hell and was proud of that. How could she be so proud of that?

Her soul had been twisted so much while in Hell. She belonged on that rack for the things she'd done over the last three decades—no, only the last three months. It had only been three months since she had given in. But it definitely didn't feel like that.

Staring at the blood red color of the wine, Melinda knew that to her it would always be 30 years since she'd gotten off that rack. Nothing could change that, just like nothing would change the way she felt; the joy she had for torturing innocent souls.

Turning to face Holly, she picked up the wine and smirked, "There's no need for the rack. Next time you keep something from me, though, I will put you there. Just because you were once my cousin doesn't mean I'll protect you from the world of pain I can unleash."

* * *

 **Please do R &R. I'd really like to know what you think of the chapter. This Hell scene was much easier to write than any of the others before it. Writing an evil Melinda seems to come second nature to me, just like writing an angry, self-loathing Dean...hmm...not sure what that says about me :s **


	6. Chapter 6

**There are just three chapters after this one for this story!**

 **IllusionDog: Thanks for your feedback. I'm really glad you enjoy how I'm mixing the Halliwells and Winchesters together.**

 **Gabyhyatt: Thank you again. Yes, Holly is definitely evil now and doesn't have any remorse.**

 **Here's the sixth month after the Hellhounds...**

Chapter 6

Six months? Is that how long it had been?

Dean wasn't sure anymore. The days and nights rolled into one. Dragging himself from the bed, he stumbled to the door and into the hallway, only just reaching the bathroom in time. The contents of his stomach ended up in the large porcelain bowl, and he knew that it would become his best friend again. Just like it had been his best friend yesterday morning and the morning before that and...well, every morning he could just about remember.

Today wasn't as bad, which meant one of two things. Either he didn't drink that much yesterday or his body was starting to get used to the alcohol. Maybe he'd have to step up the drink a little more.

He knew Sam was worried about him. Hell, even Bobby was starting to worry. Dean had gone the last month with no new leads, drinking and wasting the days away. He couldn't save Melinda, and he couldn't find or save Riley. It was pointless.

Everything was _fucking_ pointless.

Once he decided that nothing else was going to come up, Dean stood and flushed the toilet. Looking into the mirror was his biggest mistake. He'd not shaved in two months, and his ginger beard was showing through.

 _How the hell do you have a ginger beard, cowboy?_ Her voice made fun of him, just like it did every single day. She'd call him a failure, a waste of space, a sad excuse for a hunter; everything he called himself these days. Because it was all true. He had failed her and he hadn't been on a hunt since ganking Lilith. He couldn't bring himself to leave the research. Leaving that would mean Melinda would say in Hell and he couldn't let that happen.

Brushing his teeth, Dean left the bathroom and groaned as the light in the hallway hit him. Why did it have to be so bright at...what time was it anyway?

Checking his watch, Dean groaned again. It was already the afternoon. Dean had slept the morning away; wasting time because he was too busy in the land of his dreams. For once, his dreams last night were peaceful. He'd been with her, somewhere on a hunt and celebrating their success. He'd wanted to stay there, wished that was reality and all this was just one horrible, long nightmare.

Making his way down the stairs, Dean could hear voices. The first he recognized instantly. Sam was talking to someone, but he couldn't quite work out who the second one was.

"I'm worried about him. There has to be something we can do." Sam sighed from the living room, and Dean could almost imagine the bitch face, puppy dog look that he was so good at.

"I'm looking into everything I know about Hell, Sam," the voice said. It was a man's voice, but not one that Dean knew; at least, not one sober Dean knew, "Maybe it's time you talk to him about quitting his drinking. It will give you one less thing to worry about, right?"

"You go talk to him about that, Garth," Sam laughed a humorless laugh, as Dean rolled his eyes. Of course they were talking about him, but who was Garth? "Look, can you and Bobby please keep working on this. I really want to give him some good news. It's almost like we're close to breaking something."

"I'll try." Garth replied, before the two walked out of the living room. Dean had guessed that Garth was a hunter, but was very taken aback at the sight of the man; more like boy. He was skinny, childlike and almost too innocent to be a hunter. Maybe he knew about the supernatural world and just did some research and manned the phones for Bobby. There was no way Dean would trust the guy out on a hunt.

He'd wondered whether to let the two know that he was there, but curiosity won him over. He wanted to know what his brother was up to and who the hell this guy was. Clearing his throat, he saw Sam jump. Garth just looked over and smiled, "You must be Deano."

"It's Dean." He growled, walking down the rest of the stairs with a frown on his face. The smile didn't drop from Garth the way Dean hoped it would, and he just continued to look at him before Sam got his attention.

"So, you'll speak to Bobby..."

"I'll call when I have something, Sam. Don't you worry about it." And before Sam could do or say anything, Garth hugged Sam tight. Dean couldn't help but raise his eyebrows, as Sam awkwardly wrapped his arms around the skinny man, patting his back.

"See you later, Garth." Sam laughed nervously, before Garth stepped back and looked over to Dean. He quickly raised his hands and stepped back.

"Don't even think about it, man," Dean shook his head, "I don't even know you." Seeing that Garth wasn't one for taking no for an answer, Dean walked out of the room and into the kitchen. He needed a drink anyway.

Two sets of eyes were suddenly on him from the kitchen table, as Dean walked through and straight over to the fridge. Chris and Dana had been eating lunch, and clearly discussing something. Whatever it was, Dean wasn't interested and they clearly didn't want to keep discussing it with him around. With a sigh, Dean grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, taking the cap off with his ring, before making his way out of the kitchen.

Of course, he didn't get too far. Sam was walking in just as Dean was trying to get out. The look on Sam's face—another bitch face—told Dean that he'd seen the beer and wasn't impressed with his decision to drink already.

"Are you serious, Dean?" Sam sighed, shaking his head, "This is getting ridiculous. How can you save Mel if you're constantly drunk?"

"I can't," Dean shrugged his shoulders, "I can't save her when I'm sober and I can't save her when I'm drunk. I feel better when I'm drunk, though."

"Do you even get drunk anymore?" Chris sighed, making Dean turn to face him. Without saying a word, the eldest Winchester shrugged his shoulders and took a mouthful of the beer in his hand. Sam let out a frustrated growl.

"If you don't like what I'm doing to myself, Sammy, go," Dean told him, "I tried for months to save Mel. I'm still trying. The only reason you've jumped back on the bangwagon is 'cause Riley is now missing and he didn't die. At least, not that we know of. You gave up on her and you gave up helping me, so you don't get to say a word about the way I live my life."

Keeping tight hold of his beer, Dean walked backwards and made his way through the laundry room and into the garage. At least he could get peace with his car. Maybe his baby needed an oil change.

* * *

"When can I go topside?" Melinda asked, laying in the bed next to the demon she now called her husband. Well, sort of husband. There was never an official marriage ceremony—who were they going to swear to? Lucifier stuck somewhere in a cage? Definitely not God. She was next to her King, the sole reason she had freedom in Hell to do as she pleased.

The only thing she hadn't been able to do was get to Earth. Crowley had kept her down here, learning the ways of torture and how to be a good Queen. Not that Crowley went up there that often. He did it when one of his demons was causing an issue or when a bigger deal needed to be made.

"All in good time, Princess," Crowley informed her, running his hand down her cheek, neck and arm, "What's the big deal about it anyway? Don't you like it here?"

"I get bored," Melinda rolled her eyes and climbed out of the bed. Throwing on a tight, red dress and a pair of black high heels, she walked over to the drinks cabinet again. This was a regular thing to get her through the days in Hell, "I'm bored of the same old torture."

"What about your pet?"

"He has nothing new to tell me," Melinda pouted, "And he doesn't want to join us yet. Besides, Alistair is having fun with him right now."

Melinda poured herself a glass of wine, and then turned to face Crowley. He was putting his suit on, before getting on with his duties for the day. Whatever those duties were. They bored Melinda, too. She wanted excitement and that meant getting up to Earth and toying with the people around. Toying with hunters and witches. That was something she wanted to do.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," Crowley sighed, grabbing the wine from her and taking a mouthful. Screwing up his nose in disgust, he pulled her to him to kiss him, "For now, your life is here and this is where you're needed, munchkin. Why not get a little more creative with your torture? Find other ways to have fun. I'll even be your guinea pig if you make it kinky. All you have to do is ask."

Crowley turned on his heels and walked out of the room, making Melinda roll her eyes. When was he going to get the idea that she hated being here?

* * *

 **Will Melinda ever get to go topside? Will Dean ever find her? I'll be back with more later this week.**

 **Please do R &R. I'd love to know what you think of this chapter and the inclusion of Garth!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey. So, this is a shorter chapter than the other ones. It's the seventh month and that means there are only two more chapters left of this...**

Chapter 7

Sam and Chris just watched as Dean slept the day away. They'd ran out of ways to help him. Now all they could do was sit by and watch as the eldest Winchester became less of a hunter and more of a drunken mess. It had been seven months since Mel's death, and each day that brought no news led to one more part of Dean dying.

They needed a way to save him. If only they had that. If only they could tell him that they'd found Riley, who had found Mel.

But that wasn't the case. In fact, they'd pretty much given up on Riley, too, deciding that he had to be dead. They hoped he was dead anyway. It would have been better than the torture that he could have been going through.

Poppy walked in from the sun room, holding two empty bottles of whiskey, "He's out cold. I've put the bowl on the floor by the couch if he throws up."

"Thanks, Poppy." Sam sighed, glancing at his sleeping brother. The only time he would sleep was when he'd drank enough to knock him out. Otherwise Dean would drink more and torture himself with the books that told him there wasn't any way of saving a soul from Hell.

But Sam and Dean had both known that wasn't the case. They'd saved their dad from Hell. More like, their dad had climbed his way out of the pit when the doors to Hell had been opened. There was definitely a way in and out. But they'd lost the colt that was needed to open that door.

 _No, you gave it to Crowley,_ Sam thought to himself. Seventh months ago he'd made that deal and had to stick with it. He had to give the colt back. Sammy now wondered whether Crowley knew that Sam and Dean would try open that damned door again with it. Why else would the demon want it?

"How's Pru?" Chris' voice didn't really pull Sam out of his thoughts. The conversation just continued in the background, faintly. It wasn't even like he was here right now.

"She's as best as she can be," Poppy sighed, "We're trying to locate Riley but…well, she isn't taking him being dead as a suitable answer.

"That is because he isn't dead," a rough, deep voice spoke close by. The two witches and hunter looked across to see Castiel standing, his trench coat messy and black hair wild, "My sources tell me that he is currently stuck in Hell."

"So, we need to go save him!" Chris exclaimed, "And we can save Mel at the same time and…"

"Chris, if getting into Hell was as simple as that, do you not think I would have done that already? Dean was right when he said Mel sacrificed her life for me and my brothers," Castiel sighed. It was the first time the angel had admitted openly that the elder Winchester brother was right. If only Dean was awake and sober to hear that, "We do owe her for that. I have an army working on it but we cannot just go in there and risk our lives."

"How long?" Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. Castiel sighed, looking at him with a shake of his head. They had no idea how long it would take for the angels to get into Hell and save Melinda, Holly and Riley.

Feeling like they were back at square one, Sam walked out of the house. He needed air and time to think. He needed to come up with a plan. He couldn't keep watching his brother drink himself to death. He needed to do something right now.

* * *

Melinda just stared into the eyes of the man that she once called a friend. She called him a lot more than that at one point in her life, but too much time had passed now. It may have been seven months since her death and rebirth as a demon on earth, but down here it had been 70 years; 70 glorious years.

The man—that half-manticore—hadn't broken yet. He'd been in hell for 30 years now and he was still refusing to break. Mel understood why. People were still looking for him. He hadn't died like Melinda had. Mel had broken because she knew there was no point; no point in fighting when everyone else was mourning. When she found out that people hadn't stopped looking to save her, she didn't care. It was too late.

Her humanity had been stripped. Now there was barely anything left. Just the distant memories of times gone by.

Yes, she still remembered her family. She remembered Dean and Sam, and what it was like to be human. But she didn't care anymore. They'd had time and had abandoned her. The angels had left her in Hell when she sacrificed herself for them.

Picking up the razor blade, she stared down at it. _The sharpest is the best_ , Alistair's voice told her in the back of her mind. And he was right. Sharp hurt a hell of a lot more than large. And that was just what she wanted to do to the man she once called her friend.

* * *

 **It's getting very close to the point of the next story and it's all ready and waiting for you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please R &R.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks gabyhyatt for another review. I'm getting the chapters out a little sooner this week, so I can wrap up this story. Chapter eight is the eighth month after the events of the last story...there's a little covering our favourite angel too...**

Chapter 8

Wyatt swung his right fist, but it connected with nothing. Luckily, his reflexes were quick enough to block his face from his opponent's fist. Now all he could do was curl in on himself to block his body from the majority of the punches that were being thrown his way. And then there were the kicks and jabs with elbows and knees.

"You son of a bitch!" his opponent shouted, a slight slur from the alcohol, "You stopped caring. She's probably holding on to the last of her humanity because you and your brother stopped caring. You gave up, just like everyone else in this god forsaken family."

"Dean!" Sam's voice called out, and Wyatt finally felt the barrage of hits end. Getting the guts to look up, he watched as Dean stumbled backwards, Sam's arms grabbing him tight, "You need to stop!"

"You stopped caring, too!" Dean shouted at his brother, now fighting against the taller man. The one thing Sam had over Wyatt was experience. He knew Dean's fighting style and had been trained in the same way. While Phoebe had taught Wyatt how to fight, Sam and Dean had learned a more gritty, messy but effective form of fighting. And they'd learned from a former marine.

"Dean!" Sam fought his brother back, trying to hold back the punches, as he floored Dean and twisted his hand behind his back. The alcohol in Dean had helped Sam overpower him much easier than had he been sober.

Wyatt stood up and watched the two brothers, wiping his mouth of the blood from his cut lip. He could see the hatred and heartbreak in Dean's green eyes, even if they were glazed over from all the whiskey he'd drank that day. They told the two others in the room of the struggles over the last eight months. The attempt to save Mel, only to end up with another friend get taken.

 _You did stop caring,_ Wyatt thought to himself, as he stepped away from the struggling Dean. Dean wanted nothing more than to attack his brother, but Sam wasn't having any of it. He really felt right now that he had stopped caring. Maybe if he cared more, he would have found Mel and Holly; Riley wouldn't have been taken.

But that wasn't the case. Wyatt never stopped caring. He just realized that life had to go on. It was heartbreaking knowing his sister was doing time in Hell, but she sacrificed herself to save her niece. They'd tried to save her, but there's no way she would want anyone else suffering because of her. She wouldn't want others in Hell because they were trying to save her. That's just what had happened with Riley, and she'd never forgive any of them.

"Dean, fight me and I will knock you out," Sam warned his brother, pulling Wyatt from his thoughts, "I swear to God, man!"

"Then knock me out," Dean told him, "It'll feel better than this. It's not like you haven't betrayed me or this family. You all gave up."

Dean managed to twist himself out of Sam's grasp, but Sam was still quicker. Being sober certainly helped. All he could do was swing a fist and punch Dean, knocking him out cold. Looking up at Wyatt, Sam shook his head, "I can't believe I just had to do that."

"He needs to sleep this off." Wyatt sighed, waving his arm and orbing Dean up to Mel's old bedroom. It was his bedroom now. All of his stuff was there, and there was no way the Halliwells were going to kick him out yet. Leo had made it clear that Dean was welcome as long as he wanted to stay, even if he was destroying his liver and life with alcohol.

"I don't know what to do for him, anymore." Sam now admitted to the older man in the room. Wyatt sighed, shaking his head. There wasn't anything they could do for Dean, except get Mel back. As much as he hated to admit it, they both needed each other. They both helped pull each other out of dark moments, would do everything for each other. They belonged together.

Making their way up the stairs to the kitchen, Wyatt noticed Chris and Leo sitting at the table. Both watched to see who was going to come out, and whether Dean would have calmed down by now.

"Where is he?" Chris asked, "Don't tell me you tied him up."

"Knocked him out," Sam said, with a shake of his head, "He's sleeping it off now. Wyatt orbed him to his room."

Chris just nodded his head, glancing over at his older brother. They were clearly discussing what to do about Dean. It was all that anyone could talk about, whenever Pru wasn't around. If she was around, it was all about her attempt to save Riley because she hadn't given up on him yet.

 _Yet, you've given up on your sister,_ a voice told Wyatt inside his head. That was different, though. Riley hadn't been killed. He was alive, in Hell. He needed saving. Mel had been killed. Her body was rotting in the Halliwell family crypt, along with Holly's. There wasn't any way to bring Melinda back from the dead, but they could still save Riley.

"We need to help him," Leo sighed, "I hate seeing him this way."

"I wish I knew what we could do," Sam shrugged his shoulders, sitting down. There was a defeated sigh, as he ran his hand through his growing brown hair, "I was just telling Wyatt that I don't know what to do for him, anymore. The only thing that will save him is saving Mel, and that's impossible."

"What about Castiel?" Leo now asked, looking between his sons and Sam. The angel had visited last month to say that Riley was still alive, but that was it. Well, he said that he and his brothers were trying to get Mel out of Hell, but it wasn't going very well. Wyatt couldn't help but wonder whether Castiel _wanted_ to get Mel out of Hell, but wasn't getting any support from the others. That seemed more likely.

Grabbing a bottle of water, Wyatt leaned against the cabinet and watched as Leo, Chris and Sam discussed their options. It was becoming more and more clear that there wasn't anything they could do for Dean. He wanted Mel, and would kill himself before he gave up looking for her. Could they really sit by and watch that happen? No. Could they do anything to stop it? No.

* * *

As Wyatt had thought, Castiel was up in Heaven trying his hardest to get the army of Heaven on his side. He, Balthazar and a small number of other angels were all in agreement. Melinda and Holly deserved to be saved. Even if they couldn't be brought back to life, they deserved to get to Heaven rather than become twisted demons.

The problem was that Holly had given in a long time ago, and was now causing havoc on Earth. Mel was the Queen of Hell, standing by Crowley's every move. It was going to be very hard to bring their souls to Heaven. They no longer deserved to be up here without their humanity. But that wasn't their fault. They'd gone to Hell because they'd sacrificed their lives to save the 22 angels trapped in the basement of that house. If it hadn't been for their sacrifice, there was a strong chance that the Halliwells wouldn't have been able to work with Dean Winchester to kill the first demon, Lilith.

Despite a small number of angels agreeing, the ones that needed to agree were still refusing to help. Raphael and Michael shook their heads at yet another request for a small army to infiltrate Hell.

 _It wasn't safe_.

 _It wasn't possible._

 _They'd risk too much to save two humans, who had both chosen to give up their humanity._

Excuse after excuse was all that Castiel had heard from his superiors, and there was nothing else that he could do. Dejectedly, he walked away from the archangels, running into Balthazar.

"Well?"

"Nothing, again," Castiel shook his head, "We cannot save them."

"Stuff that," Balthazar laughed at his angel friend and motioned for Castiel to follow him. What Castiel hadn't realized was that Balthazar had spent the last few months training a small army of angels, "We'll go into Hell ourselves. There's not many of us, but we're powerful. You know most demons fear us."

"It will not be that easy."

"No, but it will be worth it," Balthazar shrugged his shoulders, "Won't it, boys and girls?"

The group of angels cheered in resounding agreement. Castiel looked around, recognizing a few of them from his own garrison, but others were ones he'd never seen before. There were men and women now crowding around the two angels.

"All we need now is a full plan to get into Hell and save those two girls and their half-demon friend." Balthazar told Castiel, making it clear that it was up to them.

"You know this is rebelling. We will be just like Lucifer."

"Maybe good ol' Luci had a point," one of the angels spoke up from behind Balthazar, "Not that humans shouldn't be protected, but that the boss isn't always right. Michael and Raphael are too high up to realize that helping these two humans will save the Earth. Gabriel left centuries ago, and Anna decided to follow in big brother's footsteps. It's time we do what it right, not just what they tell us."

Castiel looked around at the group again, ending with his focus on Balthazar. With a nod, he smiled softly, "Let's do this."

* * *

 **Just how will the infiltration work out? Will Castiel be able to save Mel and Holly or is it too late?  
**

 **Please R &R. I'll be back on Friday with the final chapter.**


	9. Chapter 9

**And here it is. The final chapter. I'm actually starting with Hell for this chapter-the first time that's happened! I hope you enjoy it.**

Chapter 9

Riley looked up from the bed that he laid on. It wasn't often that he got to lay on a bed. The demons preferred that he remain on the rack or tied up in chains from the ceiling. Melinda preferred him that way, because she loved to torture him slowly.

But this morning he'd woken up on the bed. As he rolled onto his side, he gritted his teeth in pain. Now he remembered how he'd ended up here. Alistair—the head torturer as Mel had told him—had gone a step too far. There was a wound that wasn't easily healed with a click of the fingers. Not being dead made things much harder for healing Riley. It meant every now and then he would have to be taken from the chains and laid on a bed.

This time, his ribs had been cracked; all of them. One of them had pierced his lung. Being half-demon did mean that he had some abilities of his own and it slowed down death, but it didn't starve it off completely. He still had a human half.

Along with his ribs, he'd had his back broken. That would heal in time, and wasn't a cause for concern for the demons; for Melinda. She didn't care if he never walked again. She was just bothered if he died.

Gritting his teeth, Riley rolled back onto his back. He couldn't help but think back to a time before Hell. That wasn't easy though, especially after being in Hell for so long, now. Mel had made it clear that it wasn't just a few months. It had been decades since she'd been in Hell. For him, it was 50 years.

Half a century of torture and he hadn't broken. He wouldn't, not when he knew that Dean was still searching for a way to save Melinda and when he knew Pru would find a way to save him. He even trusted that Wyatt, Chris and the others were looking for ways to help him. They wouldn't leave him here to suffer, but it would take time. He understood that, not really wanting to think about how difficult it could be to get into Hell.

Footsteps pulled him from his threats. They were getting closer to him and were definitely female. He could tell by the sound of heels on the stone cold flooring of Hell. There was only one female that would visit him right now, and he waited for her to show up.

"Well, well, well," a voice he didn't recognize said, and Riley couldn't help but wonder whether she'd taken up a new meatsuit. He had wondered how she had her own body, "Look who's all laid up and unable to be tortured. You know Melinda isn't happy. She's lost her pet."

Hearing Mel's name made Riley frown. Turning his head, he grimaced but saw the dark-haired girl next to him. She had a pair of dark, tight-fitting jeans with brown heeled boots over the top that went to her knees. Her top was white, covered with speckles of red that Riley couldn't tell was part of her top or some blood splatter. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. He just needed to know who this was.

"Don't you recognize me?" the girl asked, sitting on the bed and then running her hand through his hair. Riley tried to shrug her hand off him, but it hurt far too much to move, "I'm not surprised. Mel had used some magic to make you blind the last time I was here."

Riley couldn't help but think back time. It was scary and Riley didn't know if he'd ever be able to see again. His vision had blurred over the course of the morning and by lunch time—well, what he'd guessed was lunch time—he was completely blind. Mel had left him like that for a few days, and a few people had come in and out, all trying to get him to give in and become the "demon that he could be." They'd promised his sight back if they did it.

In the end, the magic had worn off. Mel had said that that particular spell was just temporary, but she had a lot worse up her sleeve if he continued this way.

"You do know me," the girl now laughed at him, "From your old life. I was so quiet when I was alive. Always in someone else's shadow..."

"Holly." Riley croaked, narrowing his eyes at her. She grinned evilly, as she pulled out a knife from her right boot. Running it over his cheek, he waited for the burn of the blade. Nothing happened, though. She hadn't pushed it close enough to slice into his face.

"Oh, I'm under strict orders not to physically hurt you," Holly said to him, a flash of mischief in her eyes, "But that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with your head."

She then placed a hand on Riley's forehead, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His scream filled the whole room and corridor outside the room, as Holly used her magic to really make Riley wish they would just let him die.

* * *

Castiel dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach. He'd gone to the one place that he could for safety after the horrible events of that morning. The Halliwell Manor.

Dropping on his knees in the sun room, he growled in pain. The hole in his stomach still had a blade from one of the demons. It wasn't an angel blade, thankfully, but it still hurt. Pulling out the broken piece of metal, Castiel cried out again. The screams were enough to alert others in the house that he was here.

"What the...Castiel?" Sam's voice was full of concern, as he jogged over to the fallen angel. All Castiel could do was looked down at the blood dripping from his wound, onto the clean, white floor. Piper Halliwell would kill him for this if she was still alive. He had seen her get angry for less.

Sam looked at the blood and then looked up, "Chris, get Wyatt. Cas needs healing."

The glow of blue told Castiel that Chris had orbed out. Wyatt clearly wasn't in the house, but it didn't take the two Halliwell brothers long to return. Sam had just managed to help Castiel to the sun room couch before Wyatt turned up, instantly healing him. No questions were asked, until they knew that this was going to work. Would healing work on an Angel of the Lord? Even Castiel wasn't sure if a whitelighter—more like a witch-whitelighter hybrid—would have that sort of power.

Luckily he did, and Castiel was able to sit up again. Bianca walked in with a glass of water in her hand. She'd shimmered over with the brothers to make sure the angel was okay. Seeing him on the couch, blood soaking his white shirt, freaked her out and she just did anything she could to help him recover from it.

"What happened?" Sam now asked, the first to break the silence.

"Where's Dean?" Castiel looked around at the four people in the room.

"Not here," Sam shook his head, "Some bar, I think. I don't know. What happened?"

"We went into Hell," Castiel admitted, closing his eyes as he shook his head. The plan had been for them to infiltrate Hell in the dungeons. They would get Riley and then work from there. For the first trip, he'd been their most important mission because he was the one that could still be stopped from breaking. He was resilient because he hadn't been killed before being taken, "We failed."

"What do you mean failed?" Wyatt asked, frowning.

Castiel couldn't look at any of them. As he spoke softly, he told them about the failed mission. The group of demons that had crowded around them. The demons that had managed to overpower some of the younger angels, killing them with their own blades. They then turned the blades on the older angels. Some of them had made it out, but not all. Castiel had watched as Balthazar was stabbed in the back. He never saw who by, as he'd felt a sharp pain in his gut just then. When he looked down, he'd realized a demon had stabbed him and was holding the angel blade up. The demon's blade had broken in Castiel's stomach, and all Castiel could feel was the fire inside him every time he moved. He couldn't fight the demon, so he winged himself away from Hell. He'd left his fallen brothers and sisters, not knowing what would happen to them. He had a duty to get back to the Halliwells and Winchester brothers; tell them what had happened. Help Dean know that they were trying, but it was fruitless. Melinda, Holly and Riley couldn't be saved.

Wyatt, Chris, Sam and Bianca looked at each other, graveness in their eyes. They knew what that news would do to Dean. Hearing that his girlfriend could never be saved would be the end of him. Hearing that angels had tried and failed against the demons would take away all hope that he had, and all that would be left would be a shell of the man that he once was.

"We can't tell him." Chris shook his head, glancing down at the angel.

"We need to," Wyatt disagreed with his brother, "He'll continue to try find a way. He'll kill himself trying to find a way."

"He'll kill himself knowing that it's been all for nothing, that everyone is lost," Sam agreed with the younger of the two brothers, "Right now he has hope, and that's keeping him alive. Until we find a way to convince him that Mel is gone and can't be saved, we don't tell him about this."

It wasn't up for discussion. Dean Winchester would never know about the failed attempt from the angels to get into Hell.

* * *

 **Please R &R. **

**I'm looking forward to sharing the next story in the series. It will be towards the middle/end of next month as I want to fix a few issues in the first couple of chapters before posting. I found them while giving it another re-read. I can't wait, though.**


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